Kiss The Cook
by Hachichi the Medic
Summary: Contains characters from my others stories, so MIGHT be a bit confusing. Pure crackfiction, non-canon slash written in the middle of the night. Rokiki goes to visit Fujuju for advice and more happens than they bargain for.


kiss the cook

Rokiki gave a heavy sigh and knocked on the door once more. This was stupid. This entire idea was insane. There was no way this would ever work… And, on top of other things, he was starting to freeze in the British cold.

The door to the red phone booth opened, albeit against its own will in the snow, and Fujuju's eyes met his, full of surprise. It was to be expected… Rokiki was supposed to be halfway across the world, and yet, here he was…

"All right, explain this to me, once more?" Fujuju set the cup of coffee in front of Rokiki on the table, and then took a seat on his couch, but not before setting aside a pile of books to make space. He'd done the same in order to make room for Rokiki, who sat opposite of him. Rokiki took the warm drink in his hands gratefully.

"The little brat I work for is throwing some kind of party… We have to make something, and I got shafted with baking a cake," he grumbled, sipping the coffee and cringing.

Fujuju folded one leg over the other, and leaned forward a bit, coffee in one hand and an incredulous look on his face, "…So you traveled halfway across the globe in order to make one."

"I'm a lot of things, but I keep my word!... I don't like it, but you're the only one I knew who knew anything about baking… Mora's too busy with her work, and I don't exactly have a lot of other friends to turn to."

"Ah, I'm so happy you count me as a friend! I didn't—"

"I don't," Rokiki answered sharply. Fujuju stopped, cleared his throat, and set down his cup.

"Right then. I'll prepare the kitchen. I think red velvet would be best for the season!" he exclaimed, bounding out of the living room and up the stairs to the kitchen. Rokiki only heaved a frustrated sigh.

"…I don't see you as a friend…. Damn it, this is going to get me nowhere at this rate…." he grumbled, and begrudgingly followed Fujuju into the kitchen.

"All right then! Is your workstation clean?"

"…I assume…" Rokiki answered, glancing to Fujuju and back to the counter. Everything they would need was laid out. Flour, sugar, measuring cups, bowls… All in neat little piles.

"And the oven's preheated to the correct temperature?" Fujuju adjusted glasses, and Rokiki glanced over to the chartreuse Keronian. When did he start wearing glasses? He looked good in them… Even with this thought, though, Rokiki's annoyance beat out anything else.

"Yes! Let's do this already!" he snapped.

"…Very well," Fujuju's voice was flat, and he stepped over to Rokiki. "First you want to sift together your dry ingredients. Now, keep in mind we're to use baking soda, and not powder. The difference between them is quite interesting, actually—"

Rokiki started to pour. Fujuju yelped and placed his hands over Rokiki's in order to stop him.

"N-No, you have to sift, first! Sift!" his hands were still over Rokiki's. He went red, realizing this, and he removed them quickly. He shuffled away toward the pantry as quickly as possible. "I-I have to find my sifter… I forgot it…."

Something had shaken him, from what Rokiki could see. Could it be…? He shook his head; there was no way. Good things like that never happened to him. Why would now be any different?

Sifting turned out to be a pain. After the third round of it, Rokiki threatened Fujuju within an inch of his life. The rest of the ingredients were poured in without much of a word from Fujuju. Then into the oven it went, Rokiki holding his hands on his hips, deep in thought. The cake would be done soon, and he'd been one cake to a non-existent party richer. He'd have to act fast, now…

What was he waiting for? It was Fujuju. There wasn't anything scary about him, as long as there wasn't a candle around. For God's sakes, he was humming to himself as he worked scrubbing out the mixing bowls… There was little intimidating about him.

Rokiki stepped over and cleared his throat to get Fujuju's attention. The British Keronian turned to him, forever-bright smile on his face, "Is there something the matter? It shouldn't take much longer, now!"

"You… You've got some batter on your scarf," Rokiki answered. Fortunately, this was the truth. Fujuju looked down, shocked, and gave a small, dissatisfied grunt.

"I guess there is… I'll have to—" Rokiki didn't give him much room to talk, untying it and lifting it up over his neck. He went grabbed one of the towels laying on the counter, wet it under the faucet, and went to cleaning it, all while Fujuju watched on, silent and puzzled.

"…Now you let it dry, and it'll be fine," Rokiki said to him, turning back around. It was strange seeing Fujuju without his scarf… But now that he saw him without it, he noticed the scar running across Fujuju's neck.

"How'd you get this…?" he asked, leaning forward and placing a few fingers over this wound. Fujuju immediately went bright red at this sudden contact, and stuttered out a response.

"O-Old, accident… Is all…" he answered, and took a step back. "I-I best check the cake! Don't want it to burn…"

He stopped as Rokiki grabbed hold of one of his hands, and he froze in place. Rokiki leaned over, and kissed him on the cheek.

"…If you weren't so freaking naïve all the time I would've done worse," Rokiki muttered, still holding on to the scientist's hand.

"…Where… Where's this all coming from?" Fujuju asked in a quiet, shaking voice.  
Rokiki sighed, and the timer went off. Fujuju slammed a hand down to silence the timer, and seemed almost grateful for it.

"…I'm sorry…" he muttered quietly. Fujuju had just pulled on his oven mitts when he heard this.

"I-It's fine, really."

"No, it's not… I wasted your time with this, all just because…"

"…Because…?"

"I… I guess I just wanted an excuse to do that, is all," Rokiki answered, his eyes on the ground now and even his own face reddening a bit more than usual.

Fujuju's shoulders slumped, and he leaned forward, kissing Rokiki gently. He then took a step back, growing increasingly uncomfortable quickly. "W-Well… You went to all the trouble, is all… I still don't understand it, but…"

"I don't, either," Rokiki admitted. "I didn't then; I don't now. I thought it was just my mind wanting me to a rebound from Lupapa when it was the old days, but… All these years, and… It still hasn't gone away. I just couldn't help it anymore, and I wanted to see if this would help any."

"Did it help?"

"I think it made it worse," Rokiki snorted.

Fujuju walked over to the kitchen counter, and grabbed hold of his scarf. Rokiki was surprised as he felt the scarf drape over his shoulders, and the scientist gave a small smile, "For… Your next trip. You can give it back to me when you return. I… I hope it's soon, because I rather like it… And I think my wallet's in there…"

"Didn't really think this out, eh?" Rokiki laughed.

"No, I suppose not, but I'm not really much of a romantic," he grumbled.  
He helped Rokiki to tie the scarf properly, and the warrior Keronian looked up at him.

"So, what's this mean?" he asked.

"…I suppose… It means what you interpret it as, I suppose…" Fujuju answered. Rokiki headed towards the door, and Fujuju's smile fell. "What about the cake, then?"

"Guess I'll just have to come back for that, too."  
And then he was gone out the door. Fujuju glanced down at the unfinished cake, and shook his head. He didn't really understand it all, yet, but… Maybe the next time.


End file.
